


Fixation

by Rysama



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Agony, Bad Relationship, Car Accidents, Coma, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Fever Dreams, Following, Forced, Forced Relationship, Gratuitous Smut, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Masturbation, Injury, Joker - Freeform, Loneliness, Mildly Dubious Consent, Obsession, Pain, Shameless Smut, Smut, Stalking, Suffering, Suggestive Themes, Unhappy marriage, dream - Freeform, lurking, related to the car accident, smut starting at chapter 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rysama/pseuds/Rysama
Summary: You're UNhappily married when the Joker manages to pick up an interest in you without having met you in person. Congratulations.-.
Relationships: Joker/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Fixation

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all like it! Thanks for reading in advance!

  
  
_________________________________________________  
  
  
  
  
Some relationships are proven to be mistakes. Big wastes of time that consume more of your life than they should, before turning sour and effectively running the rest of their course. In those circumstances, often times one party is putting much more than what is fair into nurturing it, whilst the other is sabotaging or indifferent.  
  
Such was true of your own relationship.  
  
It started after you got married, when you realized that the love of your life was a horrible gambler and alcoholic. It was as if he'd shed his fake skin to wear his true colors after making sure that you loved him with everything and said 'I do.' The money made between both your jobs was slowly being vaporized as debt accumulated, a fact revealed roughly six months into the marriage. It wasn't so bad then, at least appearing completely workable.  
  
You did your best to help him manage his addictions, but he refused to acknowledge how much of an issue it was and wouldn't seek proper help. As a safety measure you picked up a second job and hid money in a separate account to make sure that all the bills and essentials were handled.  
  
Rough, right? But you stepped up, dealing with it, best as you could. You never thought that things would get as bad as they did in such a short time frame.  
  
Less than 3 years a persistent feeling of being watched began to plague you. At the grocery store, at work, on the subway-- even while you laid in bed at night; Soon you found out why. That selfish fool of a husband had not improved or showed any signs of slowing down his habits and it turned out he'd been slumming it in Downtown Gotham, borrowing money from loan sharks, under your nose; All the while pretending that he was still employed. Though not entirely certain of exactly how much money it was (you'd have to pry the truth from his cold dead hands),it appeared that some low-brow gangsters put a mark on his head and had him _set on fire_ as retribution. That one incident was all it took to fully loop you back in and like a good wife, you slept in hospital chairs of the burn unit by his bedside for days actually feeling _sorry for him_. It was important to you to show that you still cared, that he wouldn't have to go through anything alone, all the while that creeping feeling never dissipating. A presence still lingered, as is they were still watching of following him.  
  
  
But harsh as reality was, when the man you still managed to have love for woke up and fully recovered-- even with the moderate to severe burns that covering a vast portion of his body, he went back to what _he_ loved. Gambling. Liquor. Possibly a few hookers too, he hardly touched you.  
  
Not that _that_ mattered, because he never satisfied you when he did. The void inside you was full of needs far beyond his sensibilities. And as it turned out, one did not need satisfaction to bring life in to the world, according to the true cause of your recent weight gain and headaches. You'd last been with him sexually at minimum 2 months prior, right before he got burned and he barely even lasted long enough to properly get you wet- Was the silly, silly, thought you had in your head, when the doctor confirmed that in fact you were several weeks pregnant. Surprisingly, you weren't so upset about the pregnancy itself, as you were about who the child's father would be.  
  
Cue picking up _another_ job and hiding away more money in your secret account because you knew, you _knew_ that the promise that the baby and you would be taken care of after 'winning big' and 'getting all the money back' was nothing to stake child-rearing on.  
  
Highly stressful it was, and the pregnancy... Never came to fruition.  
  
  
Maybe it was all the working and that you were so unhappy. Maybe it just wasn't the right time in your life. Maybe it was the paranoia of being stalked that haunted you consistently since your husband was in the hospital. It mattered not; Nothing, _nothing_ could take away that you felt incredible resentment, like you had been _robbed_ of something that should rightfully be yours, through no fault of your own.  
  
  
  
All you could do to combat the impending depression and the burning urge to murder him and let the insurance money cover his debt, was keep going to work. Soon between your desk job, part-time overnight job, and weekend delivery job, you'd lulled yourself into a peaceful routine, while your 'husband' basically lived in the casino. Spending _what_ money who knows, because he hadn't seen any of yours since about two and a half years in.  
  
You were aiming to get out of Gotham; If you were had to be _all alone_ and working constantly, then you at least wanted to do it somewhere pretty. Stockpiling money and budgeting would get you far, far away. Maybe you'd get a new identity; Your credit score was slaughtered by a _vast_ amount of 'marital' debt that was going to make things hard for you. However, that was the least of your troubles.   
  
  
  
The man who you were married to on paper had come home drunk the night before to sleep off his activities. A quick glance afforded you the knowledge that he had probably gotten beat up, maybe shaken down too. Alive, but there was no need to try to wake him; he might still be out cold when you got back, face buried in the couch cushions. 'Disgusting.' You rolled your eyes. 'There won't be much more of this.' You thought, digging into his pockets, smiling to yourself as you found the car key.  
The check that you were going to pick up would put you at enough money for first months rent in a house at the edge of Gotham where things were livable, but less pricey than the high traffic parts of the city. It was an absolute steal, the deal you'd gotten.  
  
  
Strapping on your seatbelt, you pulled out of the parking lot in front the apartment building. It wasn't until too late that you realized that something was wrong. The car- You had no control over-- It was the brakes, they weren't responding... Your complex was on a relatively steep slope so when you rode out of the parking lot, the car was at the mercy of gravity, barreling full momentum down the street. You swallowed hard, tears forming in the corners of your eyes, as you looked into the rear view mirror and saw the rapidly vanishing image of the building. _"Just like my life, up 'til now."_ The best you could do was to steer and try to avoid other cars on the road, but you had blown through two intersections already. You were guaranteed to hit something. Even without your foot on the gas the car was still going too fast to stop. Your life before this point flashed before your eyes and you let out a small sob.   
  
So much time passed.  
  
So few accomplishments.  
  
And now, _this_.  
  
'What a waste.' You found yourself whispering, with tears rolling down your cheeks.  
  
*****  
  
The world was a colorful, beautiful place. As you floated in the center of the vast fields of the rolling hills, there was no hue or type of flower that you didn't see. Drawing nearer, you allowed your feet to touch the cool grass, countless vibrant butterflies fluttering in all directions as you took each step. Slowly you began to jog and then sprint, spinning and laughing with all the pretty birds and butterflies surrounding you, breeze on your heels. Engulfing your body they lifted you into the air, higher and higher into the sky towards the warmth of the sun, until you were able to grab a handful of the thick, fluffy cotton that was the clouds. Without warning, the friendly creatures that brought you up, began to dissipate. Fear, panic, and dread hit you all at once as you free-fell through the sky for over an hour with no control, before crashing into the unmoving, freezing sea. Sinking rapidly, the light from the world above started to fade from your vision, until it was black as pitch... In the darkness you could vaguely hear voices, although it was difficult to make out what they were saying, sounds muffled by the surrounding water until eventually, it was dead silent and there was nothing, not even your own thoughts.  
  
...  
  
There was no way to be certain of how long it had been, since you'd fallen asleep in the sea but you were still there. Still dark. Still cold. Your only company, the glowing eyes of gargantuan formless monsters that circled you. They were mean and knew all your secrets, constantly taunting you with the echoes of their critical whispers and laughter. Ever depressing and consuming, they chipped away at your ego. You _had_ to be dead, trapped in the luke-warm waters of a deep-sea hell.  
  
It wasn't until you heard a voice, clearer than the ones from before or the ones you heard in passing, that you even knew you were living. The voice was soft, having a relaxing quality to it that eased the anxieties that you'd experienced as a result of the plummet. It made eyes of the monsters disappear; As a matter of fact, you'd float up from the bottom of the sea together and be able to watch the yellow, geometric-shaped blots leave trails as they leapt around the green and red mosaic sky. A caressing warmth that held one side of your face accompanied it, as well.  
  
"A little -ah, worse for wear aren't we Sweetheart?" The warmth that you felt on one cheek, suddenly reached the other.  
  
"I bought you some flowers. With any luck, you'll be gettin' up to see them soon." There was a certain edge to the way it sounded that time that you couldn't quite pinpoint. Anger? Disappointment?   
  
"Now, I'm in a hurry. Got some -ah business to take care of... You see, so many unreliable people nowadays. You gotta do everything for your sel-f." It was nearly snarling, definitely angry. Teeth gritting.  
  
A peck of warmth hit your forehead abruptly and then, you were completely cold again.  
  
Periodically, The Voice would come back putting all that sweet warmth and comfort on you-- Your face, your neck, your hands and the random pops of it on your forehead, shoulders, wrists...lips. You looked forward to it, along with the soft talking. He (it was a male) somehow sounded familiar, but from where you knew it, you were uncertain. Every time he came to visit you, now chained at the bottom of the abyss being watched by the bright eyes of countless giant beings, the sound of him became more pronounced and your chains were vanquished until he was gone again.  
  
After a number of visits, his form would materialize when he spoke. Barely corporeal, it rended the space around its abstract shape of sharp angles, vertices, and edges, drawing light and color from seemingly nothing- Like a prism and a void that had become one. Always, he spoke of profound things; Chaos, the delicate balance between sanity and depravity, the fragility of the human mind. Occasionally though, he talked about nothing. News. Cartoons. The weather (he hated the rain since it ruined his paint, whatever that meant). And His suits. It was strange because, he didn't quite have a real body, but he liked tailor-made clothes.  
  
"They're -ah, gonna be wakin' you up soon Sweetheart. And when they do..." He chuckled, a sound that you'd become familiar with, maniacal and disturbing. He wasn't making sense either. You _were_ awake... "Things'll be differen-t." He whispered in your ear. Then, heat jumped from your forehead, to your nose, and then your lips, simultaneously sliding across your shoulders and neck before resting on your cheeks. It lingered in those places for a while, long enough for the feeling to start to bleed to other parts of your body, making you tingle all over. It seemed like this would be his last visit.  
  
Finally, The Voice reluctantly pulled his warmth away. "I'll be seein' ya." He exhaled in a raspy tone.  
  
  
*****  
  
Your eyes flew open and you winced greeted by the harsh white lights in the ceiling. Then the pain came. The excruciating _agony_ cycled over your body in waves as your brain began to fully awaken. You couldn't turn your head too quickly because it too, was pulsing, but slowly panning the room you realized that you were laying alone in a hospital bed. It was strange, completely foreign even, because you had just been at peace in an amazing world moments before and now everything was... Normal? Or not? How-- When did--? Tears ran down your face and sobs wracked your frame, an act itself that caused more physical distress. There was nothing you could do to stop the overwhelming sense of confusion and fear that you'd been met with. A machine next to you began to beep with urgency as your crying intensified. You weren't entirely sure why you were so upset, but the tears kept coming so you kept letting them out. After a few moments a nurse came rushing in to settle you down, assuring you that everything was fine, everything was safe, and there was nothing to worry about. Her words did little to calm you, instead having the inverse effect because she was lying. She was completely wrong and knowing it only made you more frantic. This woman didn't know the first thing about you, and yet she had the ' _bedside manner_ ' to tell you that you'd be fine, meanwhile the last thing you remembered was... Getting dressed? It wasn't until another two nurses came in and started debating whether to use a sedative or not, that you allowed your bawling to subside. There was no way you'd let them to do anything else to you. You already had no idea what was going on.  
  
After a few moments of catching your breath, you sat red-faced and puffy eyed, sipping from a cup of water as they cautiously broke the news to you; Eight days ago, your car was t-boned by a truck after rolling into oncoming traffic. According to the police, the brakes were cut. No suspects in custody, giving you flashbacks of when your husband was burned. There were no broken bones, but the doctors had to induce a coma, so that you could heal from some swelling of the brain. They had to relocate your shoulder and there was some moderate fracturing of a few bones. Unfortunately, there would be no relief for such aches and pains and they would continue plaguing you as you healed, unless painkillers were an option for you (they weren't).  
  
Eight days was a long time to be knocked out for. And that other fanciful world with The Voice and the sea had all been some elaborate pipe dream that you could remember vividly but had never experienced. (And never would.)  
  
A hoarse crackle came from your lips, a sound that only vaguely resembled your voice. "How am I still alive?"  
  
"I heard the impact was more focused on the backseat. The truck didn't actually hit _you_ , per se." One answered.  
  
"Has...Has my husband been here?" You just had to ask. The tiniest glimmer of hope lingered, but it's not like the mind of a genius was needed to know the answer.  
  
Her entire demeanor shifted.  
  
"Well-" she paused before she answered, glancing at the other two before giving her hesitant answer. "About that... He didn't answer our calls when we attempted to contact him."   
  
You chuckled dryly. "I didn't think he would. He's probably holed up the casino."   
  
"...Right. One of us will be back soon-- just gonna check on a few things." She tried to put a smile on her face, but it didn't reach her eyes. She and the others looked almost _terrified_ as they dissipated from the room.  
  
Such things went on for the next few days leading up to your release date with all the other nurses, and even your doctor-- Every time you breached the subject of wanting to call home, there was sudden tension. They wouldn't even tell you who'd sent you the beautiful flowers that were sitting on your side table when you woke up. They were gorgeous, unlike any you'd ever seen-- Lilies that were such a dark purple that they were almost black-- but it seemed that no one in the entire hospital was on staff _whenever_ they materialized in your room. You confronted the nurse that frequented your room the most, in anger at the shroud of suspicion that seemingly hung over you and still turned up with nothing. You were handled like a *child* and told that you were imagining things, that your brain was rattled by the trauma of the accident. It almost seemed plausible. _Almost_. Something was nagging in your mind that kept you from believing that: The Voice had told you he bought you flowers in the dream that he wanted you to see. He _told_ you that. So for you to wake up and flowers be by your bedside-- was more than just some coincidence, it had to be.  
  
  
*****  
  
Glad to finally be able to leave, you were escorted outside by a nurse and headed to an empty taxi parked right in front of the hospital building. He wasn't very chatty, but at least when you told him your address he didn't need any directions. It was also nice that the ride was free because you didn't have any cash and didn't know how much money was left in your bank account. Yes, it was a hidden account, but you were comatose in a hospital for a little over a week and it was left unattended- There was no telling what could've happened.  
  
  
Which, speaking of-- When you got back to the apartment, you were met with a mess. The details of the day of your accident were quite fuzzy and still slowly returning but, you knew you never left your space like this. It was one of the things that you had the most control over. Your husband's shoes were at the front door, tie and coat laying on the recliner. There was glass and coffee all over the kitchen, apparently from a coffee pot and mug being broken. The couch was also, ever-so-slightly, misaligned. 'Of course he wouldn't bother to clean up after himself when he's in a hurry to get back to his favorite thing.' You thought. This wouldn't be the first time that he'd destroyed something in a still-drunk, partial-hangover, stupor.  
  
  
Deciding not to worry yourself was the route you went, preferring to keep on with your plan. Tidying up and going down the list of things that needed to get done in your head, you mused what it would be like to have a man who'd just... Pay attention to you. One who you wouldn't have to worry about being safe with, who could keep a sticky situation under control-- Reliable enough to force all burden from your mind and _give you a damn break_ for a moment. Someone who'd pleasure you, touch you, cling to you, desire you. Make you feel important. It would be beautiful to mean something to another person. To have value in their eyes. You weren't old; You still had plenty of living to do but you were _tired_ , life-force drained by the constant need to watch your own back, take care of family and go to work and pay ALL the bills, plus there now certainly would be a hefty hospital tab to pay, and, and--  
  
Sad to say, but being in the hospital had been your best rest in a very long time... A small part of you was wishing to have never woken up.  
  
But no, you had to get it together. Not give up on yourself. It was possible you knew, because many women before you were forced down similar paths. Like The Voice had said in your dream, things would be different.  
  
You could do this. If you just kept pushing maybe you'd get what you deserved.  
  
  
*****************************  
  
  
  
It took about a week for you to move out of the apartment. Even with the extreme soreness that you were experiencing and having to take a cab or bus everywhere, you still managed to move in to the new place before the offer was off the table and you were out of a security deposit; It was luckily already fully furnished, so you didn't need the husband that apparently was in the middle of another binge to help move a couple of garbage bags full of clothes and some things from the kitchen. When his addiction bottomed out, he'd sometimes go two weeks without showing his face. Oh, well. He'd look so crazy when he showed up to the apartment and neither you nor your stuff was there.  
  
You found that you'd lost a job too; The part-time overnight one, and though the loss of income was inconvenient at this time, you were looking forward to the restful sleeping that was to take its place. _However_... that's not exactly what happened.  
  
Instead, from the moment that your head hit a pillow at any time, you couldn't shake The Voice from your mind. That smooth lilting caress when he was calm, talking about the amusing things and then... That disgusted, agitated growl, that came from talking about anything he deemed foolish-- He was the only company that you'd had for your entire coma and whoever he was, he bought you flowers. But you had still yet to figure where you'd heard him before. Even after regaining most of the memories of the accident and watching all of your regular programs on T.V. again, it just wasn't quite linking in your brain.  
  
And yet...  
  
Laying alone in bed at night, imagining that sweet cadence groaning and whispering things to you that could make a Greek God blush, had you rubbing your clit until you came hard enough to slick your thighs from your own orgasmic juices. It was impossible to get a wink of sleep with that on your mind. What kind of man had that sound? What did he look like? What would he _feel_ like?  
  
The answer came sooner rather than later.  
  
While getting settled into the new place, you went to water your flowers. You'd kept them because they were live, not like a bouquet, but planted in a fancy red ceramic pot. No attention had been paid to them, what with the sudden move and rushing back to work, so the discovery was nothing short of shocking when you parted the leaves of its foliage, to find a card and ring wedged between it and halfway buried in the dirt.  
  
Plucking both from their position and blowing dust off, emotions from stunned to confused to mortified cycled through your brain. The card was a joker, one clearly from a custom deck, that depicted a the silhouette of a wicked looking figure in a jesters hat and the ring-- It... You would've recognized it if you were blind; Your husband's wedding band.  
  
  
A harsh fit of trembling overcame you, stomach churning as your brain attempted to process things. Swimming with a sudden onset of anxiety, your mind started to race with possibilities. Had the Joker been owed money? Could your husband be a hostage now instead of off indulging in his usual habits? Was that why your brakes were cut? Would the Joker come and collect his debt from _you_?  
  
  
There was no one to call who could save you. Nowhere was safe. You weren't stupid, you'd seen the reports. While he was still making himself known, The Joker had blown up a hospital, _the police station_ , and took a shot at the mayor in broad daylight among other things! Some news outlets were saying that the last time he was in Arkham because he **waited** for The Batman to find him. How the fuck were you supposed to get away from him!?   
  
  
Paranoia struck you full force after the discovery driving you deeper into anxiety. Every slight sound and small movement, made you jump. It felt like your lifespan was rapidly coming to an end and it didn't help that you lived alone. No reassurances, no comfort, just you. Scared. This time completely by yourself. All while the Joker was watching you, waiting to leap from the shadows like the monsters you hear about in folktales that drag naughty children from their beds and eat them.  
  
By that Friday evening, you were totally enervated. The physical aches of your body still persisted, now exacerbated by fear and stress. You weren't eating much. Already weren't sleeping well. You had to _force_ yourself to the kitchen to heat up a hot pocket; As it turned in the microwave your stomach growled from the smell, reminding you that you were a person, that eating was important and that you hadn't properly done it.   
  
No sooner did you pull your saucer from the microwave and sit it on the dinning table, did the very thing that had been the root of your distress for nearly a week come strolling through your front door.

XxxxxX

Author's Note

The man himself hath arrived! Hmmm... Wonder what's gonna happen next?😈

**Author's Note:**

> The Joker shall make his entrance next chapter! 
> 
> In the meantime I tried get a nice little set up here. This part has been ready for a while but I just kept rereading and scrutinizing and finding ways to talk myself out of posting it. 
> 
> I hope everyone has enjoyed what I've shown thus far, and will enjoy the direction that I will be going in with this! TDK J is super complex and it was hard for me to not slip into the voice of DC Comics J who I am more used to. 
> 
> Thanks everyone!


End file.
